After the last mulie buck I shot, I had pretty big shoes to fill this year, with small feet... I have been sitting back waiting until everyone else on the team has had a go at a buck of their own. Before you know it, it's October, the leaves are all falling off the trees, the grass is crunchy like corn flakes, and the odds of sneaking up on a cagy old mule are pretty slim... 

Over the last week my bud Anthony Springer and I decided to tackle this chore and focus on it before it got any later in the season. For the last six days we have been hiking around in the hills looking for that perfect buck, in the perfect spot... Needless to say we have put on at least 80 between the two of us, wearing our trusty muck boots right down to the treads. I have never been so wore down and beet up in my life on a hunt. Cameraman Anthony is a giant puss factory... He has 27 broken off cactus thorns in his left knee, six rose bush spikes in each elbow, and judging buy the amount of time he spent with his back to me in the bushes, with his pants semi down; I'm predicting he may have an ingrown hair or some other ailment that none of us really care to know about.